100-Drabble Challenge
by MistressOfImladris
Summary: My attempt at a 100-Drabble challenge, kindly given to me by LadyLindariel. Starring all sorts of characters!
1. Drabble 1: Intimidation

**A/N: I have joined the 100-Drabble challenge from LadyLindariel. Thank you for the prompts, Lindariel! Please R &R.**

 **Disclaimer: The prompts are hers, the characters are Tolkien's.**

 **Intimidation**

'You will do it, or pay!' the pug-nosed-man snarled. 'D'ye hear me?'

'I do, but I won't!' his companion answered back harshly. 'There's no tellin' what might 'appen if I do.'

A fist smashed into the second speaker's nose. 'Maybe so, but this is what will happen if ye don't. See?' Again his clenched fist flew into the man's face.

'I tell you, Bill Ferny, I won't do no such thing!' the injured man yelled, holding his hands to his shattered nose. 'And you ain't goin' to make me!'

For a moment, Bill Ferny said nothing. When he opened his mouth, it was to let out a cackle. 'Very well,' he growled. 'But I know someone who will.'


	2. Drabble 2: Crown

**Crown**

There it was, lying cold and heavy on a small, round table made of marble. Silver and gold shone in the torchlight, causing tiny circles of light to dance on the dark walls around him. Lines etched painstakingly into the precious metals curved gracefully up towards the top of the crown, while two gold plates, moulded to resemble small wings rose a few inches into the air on either side of his head. Likewise, at the front and back, were two gold leaves.

None had touched this crown since the days of Isildur, and yet, three days hence, it would sit upon his head, signifying his lordship over all the people of the realms of Gondor and the North.


	3. Drabble 3: Respect

**Respect**

The pale man's beady eyes darted up when the great doors were swung open, admitting the newcomers. Two figures strode forward, one in armour, and the other in the garments of a princess.

The figure inclined his head but did not rise from his seat on the stairs. 'Lord Éomer, Lady Éowyn. Is there something you would say to our king?'

'You would be better to stay silent,' snarled the man. 'You have not the right to speak.'

'I have as much right as you,' the man answered softly. 'I also am a man, and I insist that you respect that.'

Éomer snorted. 'A man, you say. _Respect_ , you say! What do you know of the word, foul Wormtongue?'


	4. Drabble 4: Loyalty

**Loyalty**

Few creatures are there that can compare with my beauty. Those who see me fall in love with me instantly. They try to claim me, to take power over me. But there is only one who can do so and yet remain as he was before. I have no friends, for I need no friends. I am enough for myself, for any who desires me. And yet, one upstart declares that I am the evil of Evil, the doom of Doom, and unfaithful to he who is Unfaithfulness. The fool! Few are as loyal as I, for when I am lost, I never to cease to cry out to my master. And he hears me, he searches for me. For he returns my loyalty, and will never abandon me to the thieves who have stolen me.


	5. Drabble 5: On A Side Note

**On A Side Note**

'What then is the best plan?' The voice cut through the night, though the words were spoken softly. 'Every day it gets harder to plan a surprise attack. Every hour such a movement becomes less likely to succeed.'

A second voice spoke. 'Wait for them to make the first move, my lord. Sauron expects us to attack him, thus when we do not do so, he will become impatient and act rashly. It could prove to be his downfall.'

The first speaker nodded thoughtfully. 'A possible maneuver. Cirdan, have you anything to add?'

'I believe Elrond's plan is the most sure way, Gil-galad,' answered a third voice. 'But it would not do to plan tonight. Dawn draws nigh, and we should get some rest. Weary brains never form the best plan. If I have your leave?'

Gil-galad nodded, and Cirdan rose and went towards the tent-flap. 'On a side note, Elrond, I believe you should marry the princess of Lorien. Together you would make one fine strategist.'


	6. Drabble 6: Failure

**Failure**

Heat and smoke surrounded him, rendering it almost impossible for him to breathe. He could feel his flesh burning as his fiery foe advanced on him again. Forcing himself to ignore the pain wracking his body, he raised his sword in defiance and met the blow steadily.

He screamed as the whip curled around his legs, leaving raised welts around his knees. A blast of heat hit him and he fell to the ground as his tunic caught fire. Rolling desperately, sword in hand, he fought to keep his enemy at bay and put out the flames at the same time.

But finally, as he knew would happen, the fight ended. He found himself swept up in a burning mass of pain and fire, and felt himself falling, falling. With his last strength, he thrust his sword deep into the heart of the monster. A bellowing roar filled his ears, but all he could think of was that he had failed… yet again.


	7. Drabble 7: Closure

**Closure**

'I say 'tis unfair!' one young hobbit cried. 'The Dragon's done nothing to deserve closure!'

'Aye, what was old Tom about when he decided to close down?' one of his companions added.

Sam Gamgee sat silent, thoughtfully sipping at his pint. 'There has got to be a good reason,' he finally said from the midst of the foam crowning the top of his drink. 'Tom's a good sort of chap, his son is a friend o' mine.'

'It is all very well to discuss it,' Merry Brandybuck broke in. 'But the Green Dragon is still facing closure.'


	8. Drabble 8: Triumph

**Triumph**

The twins lay on Elladan's bed, feet kicking in the air as they concentrated on the board in between them. Elladan twirled a few strands of hair around his little finger, while Elrohir gnawed on one of his nails.

'Your go, Elladan,' Elrohir announced, moving one of his knights.

Elladan let out a sudden grin. 'I will move _here_ and _here_ , and… checkmate!'

His brother stared at the board. 'How did I miss that?' he asked aloud. 'Checkmate,' he agreed sullenly.

The elder twin leapt from his bed onto Elrohir's and jumped up and down a few times. 'I won!' he crowed. 'The triumph is mine!'

Elrohir sighed. Elladan _had_ to be wearing his boots to jump on his bed.


	9. Drabble 9: That's Not What I Meant

**That's Not What I Meant**

'Dwarves are such wooly, thick-headed creatures,' the young hobbit said to his companion. 'I do not know how to describe them.'

'Perhaps attempt to be a little more flattering if you must try to do so at all,' Gimli grunted from behind them. 'And if you think that we are unintelligent simply because we are short, fat, and merry, then your brains must be less than mine.'

Pippin blushed, realising how his words had been taken. 'That's not what I meant,' he stammered, while Frodo laughed.

Gimli continued, ignoring Pippin's words. 'We are thick-headed only because of our beards and our excessive amounts of hair. Certain hobbits, on the other hand…'


	10. Drabble 10: Cloak

**Cloak**

The infant pulled himself laboriously over to where his father's old cloak lay over a low stool. Grabbing it in both his hands, he pulled in a desperate effort to remove the garment from the stool.

Finally the cloak was on the floor and the child giggled triumphantly. 'Co-co!' he exclaimed. 'Ada's co-co!' Throwing himself to the floor, he slithered along on his stomach until he was halfway under the cloak. Again he giggled. ''Dari's hidden. Nana not find 'Dari.'

A woman swept into the room, calling her son's name. 'Eldarion!'

Swiftly the boy wriggled until the other half was hidden under the cloak, hoping his mother would not notice.

A soft laugh came from the door.

'What is it, Arwen?'

'I cannot find our son, Estel. Will you assist me?'

Together the parents roamed around the room, straying perilously near to Eldarion's hiding place.

Finally he rose. ''Dari here! Dari hide wif Ada's co-co!'


	11. Drabble 11: Distance

**Distance**

For years all we have done is travel. My people have pitched their tents outside the Black Gate of Mordor, with little hope of ever seeing their distant homes again. Thousands have fallen already, thousands more shall do so soon.

But what is distance? We are a mere half-league from the Gate into Annatar's realm, and yet when we meet with our foes in battle there, the road could not seem longer. And for any who have the fortune to return to their homeland after this siege is over? They truly shall cover leagues before the day of homecoming draws nigh, but what will that matter? They are going home.

Ah, yes, the road is long, but the distance is short.


	12. Drabble 12: Jewel

**Jewel**

For weeks I worked, rarely eating, rarely sleeping. My sons' lullaby when they lay themselves down to sleep was the ring of my hammer and the hiss of the fire. Blow after blow I rained down on the crystal-like stone, but it was slow work. The stone was strong, stronger than any rock I had tried to chip before. But so beauteous it was in the firelight! Shining, sparkling, brighter even than Nerdanel's eyes. I had finished two already, I was working on the last one.

The thought of them made me turn from my work to see the table where the completed jewels lay. Slowly I picked them up and held them to the light: the Silmarils.


	13. Drabble 13: Oddities

**Oddities**

My husband Otho and I happen not to trust that cunning little hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. He is up to something, any respectable hobbit can tell that. Whenever Otho tries to talk to him about his will, he changes the subject or ignores him completely – fancy that!

Of course, it is no surprise: everyone knows that my poor relative is cracked, (all the fault of that busybody, Gandalf) but that gives him no right to ignore all of our attempts to find out what he has planned for Bag End. There is only one thing to say about the whole thing: Bilbo Baggins is odd and odd he shall be for the rest of his days, if you ask me.

 **A/N:** I hope this passes as an oddity, not simply odd. I wrote two versions of this, and, while both were oddities, this one was slightly more odd than the first. :) Please review and tell me what you thought!


	14. Drabble 14: Doors

**Doors**

It really was a lovely door, Frodo thought. So green, and the golden doorknob in the center stood out rather nicely. Bilbo ensured that it stayed neat and trim at all times. He painted it often, sometimes varying the shades of green, but he obviously favoured the brighter shade it was now.

Of course, all hobbit doors were colourful, but few were as neat as Bag End's. Many had paint chipping off them and they were nicked and, while not unpleasant to look at, in need of a repair job. But Bilbo took special pride in having his property as neat and presentable as possible at all times, and he prized his perfectly round door perhaps most of all his house.


	15. Drabble 15: Preferences

**Preferences**

Mithrandir had asked me, why would I desire to side with the Dark Lord Sauron? Had I no faith in our own strength anymore? Did the fool ever think that perhaps I was wise enough not to follow my preferences, but my common sense? There can be no coming out of this great battle alive unless one sides with the greater power – and in this case, that power is Sauron. Mithrandir may think that he is strong, but he is weak. Even after we spoke, he could not see reason, he would not join me in swearing allegiance to the lord of Mordor.

Against my preferences, I have sided with the Dark Lord. But in complete agreement with my preferences, I have turned against that fool, Gandalf the Grey.


	16. Drabble 16: Try Again

**Try Again**

I looked up as the stable-door opened, and Sam entered. My master carried half an apple in his hand, and I secretly hoped that he was saving it for me. Sure enough, as he held the fruit out to me he gave me a scratch between the ears with his free hand.

'You'll try again, won't you, lad?' he said quietly. 'You'll leave this place with all the Elves and come with Sam, won't you?'

I nickered, butting his shoulder with my head as I finished the last of the apple. Of course I didn't want to leave, but if Sam needed me, then I would come willingly. I had made it this far without injury or death. Of course I would try again.


	17. Drabble 17: Stage

**Stage**

Excited hobbit children danced around the green, laughing and clapping their hands as their fathers and grandfathers rolled empty ale kegs over the lawn to stand underneath the famed party tree. The day after tomorrow they would be celebrating Mr. Baggins' one hundred eleventh birthday and there was word that Gandalf would be in attendance.

Finally there were enough kegs to support the heavy slabs of wood that would be set on top before long. At Bilbo Baggins' parties, there was always a stage, for there was always a speech. And in the hobbits' opinions, you can't have a speech without a stage.


	18. Drabble 18: Memories

**Memories**

The young herald of Gil-galad screwed his eyes shut as he lay in the dark tent. He dove deep into the darkest corners of his mind, trying to remember. The men were celebrating Elendil's birthday today, and Elrond had had his father on his mind all day.

 _Why can I not remember?_ he asked himself, frustrated. _Was I so young that I have no memory of him?_

Suddenly a flash of remembrance came to him. He and his twin brother, sitting on someone's knee, playing with the dark hair that cascaded down around the man's shoulders, playing soldiers with that same someone in their nursery late one afternoon.

He concentrated harder, willing himself to remember. But then the only ones he could see were Maglor, Gil-Galad, and Cirdan the Shipwright. He had many memories, but few of them were happy, and those that were happy were also dim and unclear.


	19. Drabble 19: Horse

**Horse**

The Great Rider stood at the edge of a meadow, watching his steed graze. Nahar was his best friend, his most trusty companion in all things. As fast as the wind and as fair as Ithil, those that these two hunted had little chance of evading the Vala and his steed.

Oromё smiled at the thought of the wind in his hair as he flew across the land on Nahar. None could be more faithful, none more dependable. Yes, his was a horse to which no other could compare.


	20. Drabble 20: Key

**Key**

Long have I been tormented in this tiny, dark cell. No light, no company, little food and less drink. I can feel myself slowly going insane, my mind getting smaller and smaller as the dark closes in on me. Every day my fingertips absently trace the cool metal of the key; my key. In my hands I hold the only way to get into the mountain alive.

The dragon resides there now, yet I know that my son Thorin has my blood in him and it will not be long before he set out to take back what is rightfully ours. Alas, it will be for nothing, for he has not the key, he has not the map.

Suddenly light floods my prison and I shade my eyes from the terrible brightness. A bearded figure comes towards me and instinctively I hold out the map and key. 'Thorin… key… Erebor.'

My mind goes black, and I know no more.


	21. Drabble 21: In A Pinch

**In A Pinch**

Gamling walked swiftly beside his lord. They were preparing to meet Saruman's army at Helm's Deep but they had far too few men. 'My lord, there is little hope that any of us will come through this alive,' he told Theoden bluntly. 'Saruman knows he is sure to be the victor, and because of that, he has sent spawn enough to make us into his toy. He will slowly pinch us between his thumb and first finger till we are crushed.'

Theoden surveyed the Rohirrim below, hurrying to prepare for battle. 'I think it will do, Gamling,' he said, then smiled. 'In a pinch.'


	22. Drabble 22: Magic

**Magic**

Celeborn smiled as he observed his young grandsons staring at his wife in awe. His daughter and her twin sons were visiting Lorien and he and Galadriel had agreed to watch them while Celebrian took some time to herself. At the moment Galadriel was showing them how to blow through a hollow reed to make it whistle.

'You try!' she said, handing the reed to Elrohir.

'Is it… is it magic?' he asked almost reverently.

She met her husband's eyes for a moment. 'No, it is no magic.'


	23. Drabble 23: Brew

**Brew**

The inn is almost empty, for it is harvest time, so I decide to take a moment to go to the cellar to check on the ale that I started brewing two weeks ago. 'Nob, you rascal, mind the counter!' I order before leaving through a side door.

I reach the cellar and make my way to the table with the jar of ale on it. It is a strong one: still eleven percent alcohol. Dipping some out into a metal cup I keep there for the same reason, I taste it, then draw myself some more. Why should a busy man like me pass up an opportunity to have a taste of his own ale? After all, these quiet moments at the inn are few and far-between.


	24. Drabble 24: Pipeweed

**Pipeweed**

He dreamed I was _sick_! _I,_ get sick because I smoked too much pipeweed? Why, the notion is inconceivable! I expect that the whole dream meant nothing, though. Treebeard's draught does strange things to Pippin and me. For one thing, we have grown. Pippin is now taller than I, and the Ent-draught is the only plausible reason for that. But the problem of our height dims in comparison to the dream of me, getting sick because of pipweed!


	25. Drabble 25: Star

**Star**

Night upon night, I sail through the sky. From my glass ship I look down on the realms, the cities of those who I once knew. Would that I could again walk the hills and plains of Arda, a man free from unwanted knowledge and unconcerned with the future! My sons are down there: one of them a great king over men, and the other the young herald of the high-king Ereinion Gil-Galad. So much of their childhoods I have missed, and yet I have watched over them every day. I often hear them speaking to their companions about their star-father, about how much they would love to travel the skies like I. But little do they know how much their father regrets his Valar-given form, for because of this form, he has forfeited the close warmth of his family.

 **A/N:** I've finally gotten back into the drabbles! I completely lost inspiration for a while...:(


	26. Drabble 26: Wine

**Wine**

The king had ordered me to bring out his finest Dorwinion in preparation for the approaching feast. I and some of my companions had been rolling full kegs out to stand against the wall of the wine cellar since the day before. One of the others, Elros, was on duty with me the evening of the feast in the cellar and we were grumbling jokingly about having to miss the feast. Elros' eyes alighted on one of the kegs and his face lit up.

'Galion,' said he. 'Never has there been a shortage of Thranduil's Dorwinion, and never shall there be. A little will not be missed. Give me your jug.'


	27. Drabble 27: Hoard

**Hoard**

The remaining cowards still ran for cover as I settled on the peak of the mountain, my hunger satiated by the dozens of men and dwarves I had devoured. Suddenly I stretched my wings and beat the air savagely with my great tail. I had been sure to memorize where it was that the stone-loving spawn of Aulë had fled from the mountain when I first arrived. I alighted at the great entrance-way and, with a bellow of triumph, I squeezed between the rock pillars. Hall after hall stretched before me and slowly I paced along it, like an exiled king returning to his palace of wealth. Finally I found myself in a great chamber and again I exhaled, fire and smoke flaring from my nostrils as I beheld the sight: piles of gems, gold, mithril, and precious ores filled the room, covering every inch of the floor. Indeed I was a king, and here was my throne.

 **A/N:** I dunno, is the ending too abrupt?


	28. Drabble 28: Stone

**Stone**

Slowly he fingered the small stone, already worn smooth by his caresses. For centuries it had sat in a small box, protected by velvet and satin. Few days had gone by where its owner had not picked it up and run his fingers over it, trying desperately to retain the happy memories of the one he loved. This time, he thought back to the time he had been an Elfling. _'Nana!'_ the child cried. In his hand he cradled a small greenish stone. _'I found me an Elfstone!'_

On the day his mother had sailed, she had pressed a small stone into his palm, its surface dark green and sparkling in the sun. _'Here is a real Elfstone, Elladan.'_


	29. Drabble 29: Embellish

**Embellish**

Celebrian heaved herself away from where she leaned heavily against the wall, one hand supporting her swollen abdomen. She was decorating the baby's room, with the hindrance of her young sons. Their daughter's due date was just over a month away and she and Elrond had decided it was about time they got the room ready.

'Nana, this should go here,' Elladan decided, pulling the rocker to the middle of the room.

Elrohir cocked his head to one side. 'And the crib should go right beside it so you can sleep while feeding the baby and putting it to bed.'

Celebrian laughed dryly. As if the baby weren't enough to wear her out! However, she did not have the heart to turn her boys out the room. 'I think the crib and the rocker should stay where they were before,' she suggested carefully. 'Hold on and I will be right back,' she added. 'I am getting a drink.'

When she came back, she started, then groaned as the child inside her protested with a stern kick. The walls were streaked with green and blue. At one end of the room stood Elladan and Elrohir,covered in paint themselves, while the floor was covered in small foot prints.

'Erestor says colours help people to be cheerful,' Elrohir explained. 'I think that our baby is going to be very unhappy if it has to stare at white walls all the time.'

Celebrian sank against the wall again, raking her hand down her face. 'And here I thought _I_ was the decorator.'

 **A/N:** I trust this isn't too long... I know drabbles are supposed to be fifty words or so, but I hope I can make an exception!


	30. Drabble 30: Boot

**A/N:** This drabble is set in Minas Tirith.

 **Boot**

Little Elanor dragged the Thing across the room. She had found it in the closet and had recognised it as the funny brown or black things that the Big People wore on their feet. She glanced, frowning, down at her own feet and sat down heavily.

Laboriously, she lugged the Thing over to her own feet and spent moments batting with her limbs: her feet would jerk one way, while her arms – holding the boot – would jerk the other.

The door opened and her father came in. 'What are you doing, Ela?' Sam asked crouching down beside her.

'What _is_ this, Da?' she asked holding it up.

'The Big People call it a boot,' Sam explained. 'Between you and me, Ela, I think they're tenderfeet. They can't keep their own feet warm, so they wear boots!'


	31. Drabble 31: Stuck

**Stuck**

Frodo turned to glance behind him, chills tingling up and down his spine. This was an evil place, he could feel the evilness coursing through the air. 'Smeagol!' he called at length.

No answer.

He swivelled his head around, trying to find the tracks of the treacherous creature. Suddenly he ran into something wet and sticky. 'No! Let me go!' he cried, unmindful of a possible enemy near at hand.

Futilely he struggled, fighting to free his hands so as to grasp his sword. Even as he wrenched one hand free, he twisted his head around at the sound of a hiss and beheld a monstrous spider.

Frodo glanced frantically about, hoping to find some way of escape. As he had feared, there was none. He was stuck, trapped between the web and the giant arachnid.


	32. Drabble 32: Song

**Song**

And it came to be that at a certain time, I called My faithful servants together and commanded them to sing. And so they sang, their voices blending wondrously, rising and falling with the rise and fall of the wind. And their Song sounded beauteous, and great things were made of the theme and the words. Yet discord arose among the singers, and the Song faltered.

'Why hast thou done so?' I asked, wroth for the Song to be disrupted.

And so My servants, the Valar, continued their Song, and again it echoed the sound of Manwe Sulimo's wind and no discord arose among the singers.

And this I knew, that with every syllable uttered by My servants, a new thing was made, and each was more marvellous than the last. And the Song continued, long into the night, and discord arose no more.


	33. Drabble 33: Youth

**Youth**

''Knows we no youth?' it asssks us, my love?' the creature hissed to himself, pacing back and forth on all fours. 'It asks us if we knows not the ways of the young?'

The small, gangling creature paused in his continuous movements and scratched his sparsely-covered head. 'What isss youth?' he finally whispered. 'When did we ever have such carefree, happy hours? _Gollum, gollum_.'

'Smeagol works, works for his living, now that the precious is gone. _Gollum!_ ' He shook his head. 'Smeagol does not know youth,' he rasped. 'Smeagol never had youth.'


	34. Drabble 34: Stumble

**Stumble**

 _Do not stumble_ , the sneak had told us. We were in the midst of the Dead Marshes, and we had been told not to stumble. Nonetheless, all three of us – Frodo, Stinker, and myself – were covered in the reeking slime from the curls on our heads to our woolly toes.

Mister Frodo thought I did not notice when he began to lag behind. I purposely slowed down, ignoring Stinker when he whined at us to hurry.

'We must hurry, yess,' the sneak was whimpering now. 'Do not stumble, do not follow the nasssty lights!'

'If he says 'do not stumble' one more time...' I growled under my breath, leaving the threat hanging.

Mister Frodo took wrong step at that moment. ' _Do not stumble!'_ Smeagol wailed, loping back towards my master. 'Foolish master! Must not stumble!'


	35. Drabble 35: Defeat

**A/N: *Cough* I'm still here! Sorry it has taken me forever to update these!**

* * *

 **Defeat**

The young Elf led the way back to their camp, head hanging in despair. How was he to explain to the wounded Gil-galad that they had lost yet another of the many skirmishes? It was the third within days. The Alliance would not stand for much longer if the losses continued to come to thick and fast.

They reached the camp and Elrond gestured the exhausted Elves under his command towards the hundreds of tents strewn over the open plain. 'Take some rest.'

Before he went to his own tent, however, he made his way to the king's. Gil-galad had been struck in the leg with an arrow, and the healers, while allowing him to return to his own tent to recuperate, had insisted that he remain out of battle for a while.

'Ai, Elrond, you have returned!' the king exclaimed, his good humour untainted by his injury.

Elrond shook his head silently before finding his voice. 'I am sorry, my king. Again I have failed you. We were forced to fall back and retreat. Forgive me.'

Gil-galad shook his head, though his own heart was inwardly sinking. 'Do not be, Elrond. We have been here for months. We cannot expect to win every battle we engage in. Such a belief would prove to be our downfall. You have never failed me, nor will you find it easy to do so.'

Elrond nodded reluctantly. 'If you say so, my lord. Nonetheless, the number of those lost is grievous and will be hard to recover from.'

'We will not be defeated, standard-bearer,' the king said stubbornly. 'I will not permit it. Now go to your rest.'


	36. Drabble 36: You Only Live Once!

**A/N: This drabble is a little lighter than the last few have been. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

 **You Only Live Once!**

Glorfindel was standing over the young twin lords of Imladris, scolding them roundly.

'What were you thinking, you fools?' he demanded, pacing in front of them. 'What would induce you to do something so idiotic? Do you forget that you only live once?'

Elladan's head jerked up, his expression unreadable. 'Is that what Idril said to you before you fought the Balrog?'

Glorfindel paused in his tirade, his eyes widening slightly. To be honest, he had not been expecting such a cheeky remark from either of the twins while they were being reprimanded. 'Excuse me?'

'You died and came back to life, I do not see why it should not work again with El and me,' Elladan explained sweetly.

The warrior growled, then strode a few paces back. 'I would rather fight Orcs than word-spar with you, Elrondion. When you get injured, do not say I did not warn you!'

'Indeed not!' Elrohir spoke up. 'Have fun fighting, Glor, and remember that _you_ only live twice!'


	37. Drabble 37: Lost

**Lost**

My heart beat high with excitement as we made our way cautiously down tunnel after tunnel, following after our burglar. Finally we reached the great chamber in which the dragon had resided in for so many years. Gold and silver, mithril and gems covered the floor, armour and fine instruments hung from the walls, and eagerly my eyes ran over the piles of treasure.

 _Where is it?_ I asked myself frantically. _Surely it is here somewhere!_ Out loud, I cried, 'Search for the Arkenstone of my father and grandfather! It must be in this chamber!'

My people and the hobbit ran from pile to pile, exclaiming over the precious stones and the coins. I saw Master Baggins bend down more than once to carefully examine a piece of my new wealth.

At last Balin came to stand before me. 'It is not here, Thorin,' he said solemnly. 'We have searched every pile. It is lost.'

I could feel my temper flaming. _'_ How dare you give up so soon? Have you seen the amount of treasure in this room? It could be anywhere!'

But deep inside my heart, I knew it was not true. The great stone was no longer lying, hidden or exposed, on any of the piles of gold. The Arkenstone was lost.


	38. Drabble 38: Death

**Death**

Blood ran down his arm as his fingers grasped vainly at the rock. He could feel himself slowly losing his grip on the cold, rough edge of the cliff, and he forced himself to look up at the shocked, horrified face of his companion above him.

'Sam?' he whispered.

'Hold on, Mr. Frodo!' Sam's cry echoed against the stone walls, but even as the last sound died away, Frodo's hands slipped, and he found himself falling, falling.

Gandalf's words sounded in his mind as the stifling heat overcame him. _'Death is just another path... one that we all must take.'_

Then darkness blanketed his senses, and he knew no more.

 **A/N:** Yep, it's pretty AU, right?! But that part in the movies always bugs me: there is no way Frodo could hang on like that, breathing in all the fumes and getting slowly roasted by the heat, and still survive! XP Still, I hope this was well done!


	39. Drabble 39: Primary

**Primary**

The ship slowly slipped through the glittering waters of the Sea, bearing its passengers into the sunset. Those left behind on the quay stood silent and still, unshed tears glistening in their ageless eyes. Once the ship had finally disappeared from sight, those on the dock slowly turned away into the night, returning to their homes. But four remained, dark-haired and solemn, tears marring the face of only the youngest. Elrond beheld the almost-emotionless expressions of his sons, and the heartbroken countenance of his daughter: the primary reasons he was here instead of standing on the ship-deck with his beloved wife.

 **A/N:** So these 101 words are the reason I haven't updated my drabbles so long! I couldn't for the life of me think of anything that could fit the prompt, so I finally just skipped it and went onto a different one when _voila!_ I got this idea!


	40. Drabble 40: Growth

**Growth**

Merry was disturbed – in fact, he was worried. Like it was known that he was a little older than Pippin, it was also known that he was a little taller. _Or I had been,_ he thought to himself, his brow creasing as he considered his red-haired relative standing a short distance away. Yes, he decided. What he had always feared was coming true: Pippin was _growing_ , and it was all the fault of the Ents.

 **A/N:** Number forty! Sixty more to go! XD


	41. Drabble 41 - Reign

**Reign**

The tiny silver-haired elleth pulled out her diary and quill before trotting towards the windowseat. Settling down on the cushion provided, she stuck her thumb in her mouth as she reflected on the day. At last, dipping the quill in the jar of ink beside her, she began to write.

 _'Dear Diary,_

 _My name is Celebrian and I am six years old. It is a rotten day outside. It is reigning.'_

 **A/N:** This was a perfect prompt for today! It has been foggy and raining for days. :P


	42. Drabble 42- Fear

**Fear**

Eowyn backed off from the young man, shaking her head. 'As much as I would love to accompany you to see your pets, I am afraid I cannot. My brother would never allow it.'

'Whyever not?' the desperate man asked, fairly swooning. For several years, he had decided that the niece of the king was worthy of his attention, and had taken it upon himself to woo her.

'I told you before, Grima,' Eowyn replied, managing somehow to keep her tone patient. 'I have a terrible fear of most animals, ever since I was attacked by a chipmunk as a child.'

 **A/N:** This is for my sister, RoyaleisiaTheStrong, who will no doubt get the inside joke. ;) Just to clear up any confusion, this is set several years before LotR, so Grima isn't a bad guy yet.


	43. Drabble 43 - Love

**Love**

Elrond closed his eyes as he beheld his daughter's shining eyes as her newly-crowned beloved turned to greet his people. Love, joy, and pride all vied for dominance in her gaze, and all at once, he knew he had to let her go. Taking her by the hand as Aragorn drew near, Elrond placed her hand in the king's and bowed his head.

A slender hand underneath his chin caused him to raise his eyes to his daughter's, and he instantly perceived the silent message hidden in her expression: _You will always have my love, adar nín. You and Naneth both._


	44. Drabble 44: Favouritism

**Favouritism**

It mattered not to me that I was not my father's favourite. My half-brother, Fëanor, was the son of my father's first wife, Miriel Serindë; he was both wise and valiant, but cold and distant when he interacted with my mother and brother. I am second-born, the son of his second wife, and therefore I was loved second. All this never mattered until Fëanor accused me of usurping our father's throne.

'Get thee gone and take thy due place!'

His voice echoes and re-echoes in my head, the sting of the words wounding my heart and soul. If you so wish it, brother, then I will indeed leave your presence. Your words are unjust, your accusations unfounded, but should you desire it, you will have my forgiveness.

 **A/N:** Not sure, this may be more about forgiveness than favouritism, but Valar above, it was hard to write! I could have done Faramir and Boromir instead, but they've been done a hundred times, and I've never written Fëanor stuff before, as far as I can remember.


	45. Drabble 45: Pastime

**Pastime**

It had simply been an innocent pastime – that is, until the fateful moment where the fish pulled Deagol out of the boat and into the river. The two friends had gone fishing nearly every day for years, whether it was ice-fishing in the winter or using a boat in the warmer months. But after the Precious had come into his possession, fishing had become necessary in order to find food. Hidden in the dark caves beneath the mountains, goblin-meat and raw fish were his regular diet. But no longer did fishing hold any pleasure for him. Memories of Deagol, killed at his hands, came back to haunt him hundreds of years later, even when he could no longer remember the name of his victim.

 **A/N:** I'm not sure, was this too abrupt?


	46. Drabble 46: Waiting

**Waiting**

Boromir knelt in a haze of pain, one hand still grasping his sword. His shield lay on the ground beside him, but even if he yet held it, he doubted he would have the strength to use it. Through his clouded vision, he saw the black crossbow-bolt as the Uruk took aim, and prayed it would fly swiftly and accurately. The seconds as the bolt flew towards him were torturous. Then he felt himself falling backwards with the force of the third bolt as it sent fiery spasms of pain down his arm from where it stood, still trembling, in his shoulder.

A great shout broke vaguely registered in his mind, but his vision was beginning to darken, and he could see nothing. Pulling himself blindly over the ground, he reached a tree and there he rested, waiting for death to overcome him.


	47. Drabble 47: Monsters

**Monsters**

Lightning flashed, lighting up the room and glancing off the golden hair of the child sitting straight up in bed. Blue eyes were wide, one small hand was pressed over pursed lips as though the child was attempting to muffle a cry. As the thunder roared, the little one whimpered and slid out of bed.

Padding through the halls, he came to the door of his parents' bedroom and slipped in. Tugging at the bedcovers, he whimpered as another streak of lighting flashed.

'What is it, Glorfindel?' White arms reached down and pulled the trembling child onto the bed.

Wrapping his arms around his mother, Glorfindel whimpered into her shoulder. 'The monsters 'neath my bed are growling at the light, Nana.'

Lauriel smiled into her son's hair. 'There are no monsters, sweet one. I believe a Vala must have missed his or her dinner, and they are now looking for some food.'

Thunder crashed outside, and Glorfindel sniffled. 'I think whoever it was must have missed their lunch, too,' he whispered. 'Because their stomach is rumbling very loudly.'

 **A/N:** I forgot to mention that this drabble takes place in Valinor, not in Middle-earth. Just in case any of you were confused!


	48. Drabble 48: Cooking

**Cooking**

Eowyn leaned over the pot and grimaced. The thick, white concoction that was currently bubbling within looked (and tasted) more like glue than stew. Inwardly reflecting how glad she was that she did not have to eat it, she grinned at the thought of offering some to the prince of Mirkwood. She had nothing against the Elf, but the idea of watching his expression as he tasted the food amused her.

She dipped her finger in a second time and licked it. 'Quite disgusting,' she murmured to herself. 'Ah well. Considering it is my first attempt, it is probably better than some people's.'


	49. Drabble 49: Storm

**Storm**

Radagast hurried through the forest, stopping at various bushes to pluck a small animal up from the foliage. Placing them under the shelter of his hat, pulled his ragged, brown cloak tighter around his shoulders as the downpour began.

Within moments, he was soaked, and he had one more creature to rescue from the elements. 'Sebastian! Where have you gotten to, my foolish hedgehog?'

At last he spotted the quivering ball of hedgehog and, bending down, he scooped the animal into his hands. 'All accounted for?' He mentally ticked off the many creatures that were now hidden under his hat. 'Good. Now come on, children. Let us get out of the rain!'


	50. Drabble 50: Sweets

**Sweets**

Elrond popped one of the sweet morsels into his mouth and reached into the large bowl for more. His fingers came in contact with the wooden bottom and he glanced in in slight annoyance. The bowl, formerly nearly overflowing, was completely empty. Eyes widening, the young half-Elf glanced down at his belly and placed a hand on it. Now that he thought of it, he _was_ feeling less than stellar. His gaze returned to the bowl and with a loud moan, he rose to his feet, the book that he had been reading forgotten.

Staggering into the house, he stumbled through the hallways towards his bedroom. Falling heavily onto his bed, he gasped as his sore stomach protested violently. Rolling sluggishly off the bed, he crossed the room with unsteady steps in the direction of the bathing room. ''M dyyying,' he moaned, clapping a hand over his mouth. A moment later, having lost the contents of his stomach, he confirmed with a weak nod. ''M dead.'

 **A/N:** This is currently me. I've eaten almost a whole bag of chocolate Easter eggs that I finally remembered I still had. Do not recommend doing, lol.


	51. Drabble 51 - Flair

**Flair**

Elrond, Celebrian, and their two sons watched in wry amusement as Arwen prepared to lose her five-year-old temper. The small face was scarlet, rosebud lips tightly pursed, and the dark hair was practically standing on end. She stomped across the floor, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

'I _want_ that doll that Tathwen has,' she shouted all at once. 'I _want_ it, so I had better _get_ it! Or do you want me to _lose my temper_?'

'You had better ask Tathwen about the doll,' Celebrian replied calmly. 'But remember to say please and thank you.'

Opening her mouth wider than Elladan had realized possible, Arwen screamed. Casting herself prostrate upon the floor, hands and feet pounded viciously on the marble. Curious Elves glanced into the room as they passed, slightly concerned by the bloodcurdling shrieks that were currently issuing from it.

Elrond glanced at his sons, his eyes twinkling slightly. 'She really does have a flair for the dramatic.'


	52. Drabble 52 - Web

**Web**

Legolas was intrigued by ducks. The traders had returned from Laketown the week before, bearing all sorts of useful and interesting things, a brace of ducks included. Legolas had never seen such creatures until that day. In particular, he had been fascinated by their feet.

'But why do they have this _stuff_ here?' he asked Thranduil, pulling at the webbing between the toes. ' _I_ do not have it, so why do _they_?'

'It helps them swim,' his father explained patiently. 'Both frogs and ducks have webbed feet, you see.'

Thus, it should have been no surprise to Thranduil, nor should it have confused him, when he came upon the bare-footed Legolas in the gardens one evening with a large wad of spider-web in his hand. His son did not look up as he approached, but continued with his task. He would pull a little off the ball of web, shove it between his toes and repeat this step until there was no more space between each toe.

'May I ask what you are doing?' Thranduil asked after observing this for some time.

Legolas looked up at him, then back down to his feet. 'I am a duck,' he announced, wriggling his toes. 'For I have webbed feet. I will go swimming now, and when I am hungry, I will duck my head underwater and pull up a fish to eat.'


	53. Drabble 53 - Oops

**Oops**

The well-planned prank was going just perfectly until Haldir – the intended victim – decided to help himself to a glass of our father's wine, and moved to the table by the wall of the library. Elladan and I watched Mithrandir in trepidation as he continued down the middle of the aisle, seemingly intent on reaching the table of ancient tomes our father had dug out for him.

My breath caught in my throat as Mithrandir took another step... and another. One more and he would find himself...

Mithrandir took one more step.

The next instant, he was flying through the air, a length of _hithlain_ wrapped around his ankle as he swung from the rafters of the library. To our concerned surprise, our father's guest made no noise, and I began to worry. I had heard of heart attacks among the _edain_ , but never had I thought that such an illness could be inflicted on a wizard.

I need not have worried. The next instant, a bellow reverberated throughout the entire library. It was a roar of mindless fury, and it seemed to originate from the ceiling.

' _Elrondionnath!_ '

 **A/N:** The next few drabbles will be continuations of this one, in order to make up a short story. Hope you enjoyed!


	54. Drabble 54 - Not What I Had In Mind

**Not What I Had In Mind**

Elladan folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight to one leg. He glanced over at Elrohir, who was mirroring the posture. As one, they turned their slightly-horrified gazes to the ceiling, where one Mithrandir dangled from the length of Elven rope.

Elladan's eyes slid over to the intended recipient of their prank, who stood open-mouthed by the wall, seemingly hypnotized by the sight of the wizard. Meeting Elrohir's gaze again, he shook his head. 'This is _not_ what I had in mind...'


	55. Drabble 55: Helpless

**Helpless**

The nauseating swinging of whatever had me by the ankle finally slowed, and I observed that I was hanging upside down, seemingly from a ceiling. I belatedly recalled that I had been walking through the library with Haldir. I looked around to see if my Elven companion was swinging like a pendulum too, but he was nowhere in sight – until I looked down. There he stood by the wall, an un-sipped-at goblet of wine in one hand. His mouth hung open in obvious horror and surprise. Nearby, their expressions quite as shocked as Haldir's, stood the identical sons of my host.

I realized that all three would surely burst into hysterical laughter at any moment. I tried to catch hold of the rope around my ankle in order to free myself somehow, but alas! even I, one of the Maia, am only so bendable. After a few failed attempts, I let myself hang quietly as I caught my breath. It was then that reality sank in: I was strung up from the rafters of Elrond's library, as helpless as a bunch of herbs hung out to dry.

Furthermore, my scrambled brains finally settled enough to deduce who got me into this ridiculous position to begin with.

 _'Elrondionnath!'_


	56. Drabble 56: Regrets

**Regrets**

As Mithrandir's shout died away, the thought dawned on me that Elrohir and I were both dead. Or as good as. I supposed I would have to admit that it was all my idea, and that Elrohir only helped me set everything up. Maybe Elrohir would simply be maimed for life, not outright killed. My knees felt weak, and I fought the urge to sit down on the floor. 'No, no, no,' my mind whispered. 'This is a mistake. This has to be a trick. That's actually Haldir up there, to be sure.' An audible whimper escaped my lips. Last time I checked, Haldir was not wearing a grey robe – nor is he in the habit of keeping a pipe in the pocket of said robe, I said to myself as the wooden contraption slipped out and clattered to the floor.

My hands clenched tightly in front of me. _Why did I do this?_ I asked myself in desperation. I turned to my brother, an unspoken question in my eyes: _Can things get worse than this?_

The sound of a throat clearing behind us made turn simultaneously.

Things have gotten worse. There, judgmental and accusing, stand our parents.


	57. Drabble 57: Face to Face

**Face to Face**

Mithrandir was on the floor. Elladan and I, after the initial shock of beholding our parents, lost no time in climbing up into the rafters and slowly lowering the scarlet-faced Mithrandir down. My brother and I would have been quite content to remain in the rafters, out of arm's reach, for the rest of our days, but our father forbade it. Once I set foot upon the ground, I inched towards my mother and father, seeking relative safety.

Elladan had no such luck. Our guest seemed to suspect that this was all his idea in the first place, and went after him. Before long, my twin was pressed against the wall, appearing to be precariously close to passing out from shock and fright. Mithrandir was barely two feet from him by this time, and steadily getting nearer. He finally stopped when they were face to face.

'M-Mithrandir...' Elladan gasped. 'T'was an accident! It was... for Haldir, not... Oh, good heavens, kill me swiftly!'

 **TBC...**


	58. Drabble 58: Temper

**Temper**

Now that my blood is no longer trying to all fit into my skull, I am angry. No, I am furious. Do the foolish elflings not realize that my head could have been split open on the floor, had I not grabbed the rope with one hand as my feet were pulled out from underneath me? A spark of amusement rises up in me as I see how clearly terrified Elladan is. It dawns on me that this may be a better punishment than I could come up with if I thought for a fortnight. I ignore his frantic gibbering, and jab my finger into his chest.

'There are but four living creatures in this world who have seen my temper wholly unleashed, and count yourself lucky that you are not the fifth, Peredhel. However, should such an incident as this happen a second time, you will not be so fortunate. Believe me when I tell you that if I find myself hanging from another ceiling, or dripping in honey and ashes from a fireplace, I will take my staff to both you and your deserving brother. Whether I use it to beat the idiocy out of you or to turn you two into fluffy little rabbits yet remains to be seen.'

Satisfied with my mostly-empty threat, I turn on my heel and leave the room, intending to douse the rest of my anger with a glass of Elrond's best dorwinion.

 **TBC...**


	59. Drabble 59: Final Words

**Final Words**

I slid to the floor in a quivering, boneless heap as Mithrandir left the room. I was slightly stunned that I was still alive, and I turned questioning eyes to my brother. In answer, he shifted his gaze towards our parents.

 _I think he decided to let them finish you off,_ Elrohir said silently.

I was inclined to take my brother's word. Naneth did indeed have that glint in her eye that bespoke of a long, painful fate. Adar's expression did nothing but reinforce that condemnation, and I cast my gaze to the floor, hoping the penitent expression would garner at least a little mercy.

My father's voice echoed in my ears, and slowly I obeyed his command to stand. As I did so, I reflected numbly that I ought to have gone to Glorfindel for instructions on fitting last words – he should know something about it, after all, having gone through death once already. As it was, all I could do was meet Elrohir's eyes and beg.

 _Think of me kindly when I am laid to rest underneath the weeping willow by the river, brother. And for pity's sake, make sure I'm not buried in that hideous red tunic that Naneth thinks goes so nicely with my hair. Speaking of my hair, see that they don't do my braids crookedly. In fact, maybe my hair could just stay undone? And as to the coffin, I like cedar wood best..._

 **TBC...**


End file.
